Tia stood near the window, one hand resting on the sill, gazing out at the dark canopy.
Ed remained at the table, fingers still curled loosely around the now-cool mug of tea, watching the faint rise and fall of her shoulders.
Neither had spoken for several minutes after her confession.
The silence wasn't heavy anymore—it was careful, like two people learning how to breathe in the same room again.
Then the tree trembled.
Not a gust of wind. Not settling wood.
A deep, resonant shudder ran up the trunk, strong enough to rattle the mugs on the table and send a thin shower of dust from the rafters.
Ed was on his feet in an instant.
Tia spun toward the door, eyes wide.
"That wasn't—"
Another tremor. Louder. Closer. Accompanied this time by the unmistakable crack of branches snapping high in the canopy.
Ed moved to the window beside her. Through the slats he caught a flash of crimson scales glinting in the moonlight—massive, sinuous, coiling around the elder tree's upper branches like a living chain.
"A lesser dragon," he breathed.
Tia's face drained of color.
"They never come this deep into the forest. Not anymore."
The creature's head swung downward. Lantern-sized eyes glowed molten gold. Smoke curled from nostrils the size of dinner plates.
It opened its jaws and roared—a sound that vibrated through Ed's bones and made the treehouse groan in protest.
Ed's hand dropped to the short sword at his hip.
"Stay inside."
Tia grabbed his wrist before he could move.
"No. You're not facing that thing alone."
"Tia—"
"I'm still a mage of the hero's party," she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her fingers.
"I can handle a stray lesser dragon."
Ed searched her face. Saw the black marks she'd shown him earlier. Remembered her words: every time I cast anything serious… it takes more.
He opened his mouth to argue.
The dragon struck.
Its head lunged downward, jaws wide. A torrent of fire erupted—white-hot, roaring—straight toward the treehouse platform.
Ed shoved Tia behind him and raised his free hand.
"Impregnable Wall."
A translucent barrier snapped into existence—shimmering silver-blue, curved like a dome.
The dragon's breath slammed against it with the force of a siege engine. Flames roared and curled around the edges, licking at the wooden railings, but the wall held.
Heat pressed against Ed's skin like an open furnace door, yet no burn reached him.
The dragon recoiled, surprised. It hissed, smoke billowing from its maw.
Tia stepped out from behind him, eyes blazing emerald.
She raised both hands. The air around her crackled with sudden power.
"Winds of swift thought," she began, voice rising in the old elven cadence,
"blade of emerald moonlight, coalesce into radiance pure—"
The dragon lunged again—this time with claws extended, aiming to tear the barrier apart.
Tia finished the incantation in a single breath.
"—six pairs of spirit wings from three directions descend, gather, intertwine, enchant, and whirl! By the name of Lunaria Tia—manifest Triple Blade Frenzy!"
Three crescent blades of pure green light materialized in the air before her—each one taller than a man, edges so sharp they seemed to slice the moonlight itself.
They spun once, twice, then shot forward in perfect unison.
The dragon never had time to scream.
The first blade severed its left forelimb at the shoulder.
The second carved through its throat.
The third split its skull from crown to jaw.
A fountain of dark blood sprayed across the canopy. The massive body convulsed once—then went limp, tumbling backward in a slow, catastrophic fall.
Branches snapped like dry twigs as it plummeted.
The crash when it hit the forest floor shook the treehouse again, sending a fresh rain of leaves spiraling downward.
Silence returned—sudden, ringing.
Tia swayed.
Ed caught her before she could fall. Her weight sagged against him, breath coming in shallow gasps.
He lowered her gently to the platform boards.
"Tia—hey—"
She tried to smile. It came out weak.
"I… wanted to look cool. For you."
Her right hand lifted—trembling—to touch his cheek.
Black marks were spreading before his eyes: fresh tendrils crawling up from her wrist, snaking beneath the sleeve, darkening the skin of her throat like spilled ink.
Ed's stomach dropped.
"You used too much," he whispered.
Tia's laugh was barely a breath.
"A little. Just… a little overdid it."
Her eyes fluttered. The hand on his cheek slipped away.
Ed scooped her up—careful, urgent—and carried her inside.
He laid her on the nearest bed, the one closest to the window. Pulled the blanket over her. Brushed sweat-damp hair from her forehead.
Her breathing was shallow. Too shallow.
He knelt beside the bed, one hand wrapped around hers.
"I told you," he said, voice rough.
"I'm not letting that happen."
Tia's eyes opened a sliver.
"Ed…"
"Rest," he said. "I've got you."
She tried to speak again. The words dissolved into a sigh.
Her fingers curled weakly around his.
Outside, the forest was still—save for the slow drip of dragon blood somewhere far below.
Inside, Ed stayed exactly where he was: kneeling, holding her hand, listening to every fragile breath.
He wasn't leaving.
Not this time.